


Give Me a Kiss

by HolyCatsAndRabbits



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Bookshop Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Great Good Omens Snake-Off, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Naga Crowley (Good Omens), Other, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), based on a comic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23143225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyCatsAndRabbits/pseuds/HolyCatsAndRabbits
Summary: Released as part of the #Great Good Omens Snake-Off event!Crowley discovers over time that Aziraphale is comfortable with him in snake form. But is Crowley okay with it?This fic is based on the fantastic comic "Give Me a Kiss" by @Hayamiyuu! Here they are onTumblrTwitterandInstaThe comic is posted in the fic below.EDIT: the wonderful Hayamiyuu has done additional art for this fic!!"The Same Dream"
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 90
Kudos: 462
Collections: The Snake Pit





	Give Me a Kiss

Crowley learned that Aziraphale was comfortable with snakes in Crete around 3000 BC. Crowley had been fleeing from something—probably some mob of humans he’d played a trick on. He’d taken his serpentine shape to hide, turning himself small and dark and slithering beneath some stones in a field. It was cold, and the meager autumn grass didn’t offer much protection, but that had seemed the least of all evils at that point. Eventually, he’d become cold enough that he drifted off to sleep. Which was rather a dangerous thing for a snake to do, but again—a lesser evil.

When Crowley woke up, though, he was warm. No scratchy grass surrounded him, no dry dirt. He was somewhere with a heat source, somewhere soft. He opened his eyes to realize that he was curled up in the lap of an angel, who looked delighted to see him awake.

“You missed our lunch date,” Aziraphale said, with obviously false reproach, his blue eyes sparkling sharply as only an angel’s could.

“Sssssorry,” Crowley managed to say.

“Oh, no matter, dear. I was able to track you down. You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you as a serpent since Eden. It’s quite becoming.”

It took a lot of determination, but Crowley slithered off the warm angel’s lap and back onto the cold ground.

Aziraphale’s smile faded. “Oh,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, I’ve upset you.” 

Aziraphale got to his feet. He towered over Crowley like this, and Crowley felt almost claustrophobic. He stretched himself back into human form, the right size, right temperature, right face. He shrugged, and they said no more about it.

But he never forgot what it felt like to wake up feeling so warm and—and _safe._ It was a harsh thing to realize that he could trust an angel.

oOo

Crowley discovered that Aziraphale was comfortable with giant serpents in 1038 AD in Cappadocia. Hell had ordered Crowley to hang about in a cave, menacing the population of a nearby town, collecting treasure and making some sort of legend of himself. Crowley had thought that sounded like quite a nice assignment for once. Of course, Hell had failed to mention that the presence of an enormous serpent-monster in a cave would attract knights with swords. That part was not fun.

The first few knights ran away at the sight of Crowley, and so he’d relaxed a little. Then had come a braver man who’d held a blessed weapon. When he got past Crowley’s defenses and stabbed him, Crowley had nearly passed out from the pain. He managed to win the fight, sending the knight fleeing for his life, but Crowley wasn’t sure how long it would be until he came back, with more men and more swords forged with priestly aid. 

Crowley needed to leave. The problem was, he was too injured to change form, and he could hardly crawl about the countryside hoping no one would notice a dragon. So he’d blocked off the entrance to the cave as best he could and tried to sleep enough to heal.

He woke later to a sharply cold sensation and the sound of someone humming a hymn. He knew who it was without looking. _“Angel,”_ he growled.

Aziraphale stepped into view around one of Crowley’s enormous black coils, looking a little more dusty than he usually did. “Oh, you’re awake,” he said, in an ordinary tone, quite as if he were talking to a person and not a giant snake. “I’m sorry, I had hoped you’d sleep through the healing. It can’t be pleasant.”

Crowley wanted to hiss at him, but in this form he feared he’d terrorize the angel. He pulled in on himself, groaning in pain.

Aziraphale gave him an admonishing look. “I’ve been here a week, my dear. If I was frightened of you like this, I’d have left by now.”

“A week?”

“And without my magic cloaking this cave, you’d have had other visitors by now. So you can be self-conscious later. Right now, you’ve got to let me heal you.” Aziraphale bustled away out of sight again behind a serpentine coil, but he kept chattering. “Bloody irresponsible of you to do this, you know. Become a dragon, fight knights. We just set up our Arrangement, and now you’re risking it all without a thought for me. What am I going to do if you get discorporated? I don’t want Hastur or Ligur as an adversary. Disgusting, the both of them.” His voice fell low. “And if someone comes back with another holy weapon, you could be destroyed completely, so—”

“Ssssssorry,” Crowley said, and the sound filled the cave, making it uncomfortably loud.

Aziraphale popped up again, completely unimpressed. “I should say so. Now, hold still, I don’t fancy being knocked about by your tail.”

The healing took another two weeks, during which Crowley mostly slept. Aziraphale didn’t normally sleep, but the work seemed to take a lot out of him. Once Crowley woke up to the startling sight of an angel curled up for a nap with an enormous demonic serpent, tucked among his coils like a little white mouse. As if prey had found itself protected by its predator.

Apparently Aziraphale trusted Crowley as well. This was not good news. In fact, this was really going to put a cramp into the whole _falling-out-of-love-with-Aziraphale_ plan that Crowley had been working on for the last thousand years.

oOo

It took a lot longer for Crowley to discover that _he_ was comfortable being a snake around Aziraphale. 

After the Abotchalypse, when Crowley was free to visit the bookshop as often as he pleased, he found that it was quite fun to lurk among the books as a small snake, scaring away customers (and startling an angel, if he could manage it). One day, Aziraphale made an exasperated noise and shooed him out of the Yeats section and onto a sunny windowsill. Crowley found that it was actually quite pleasant there, even if it was out in the open, and still a great place from which to menace potential customers.

The point of being a snake in the bookshop, Crowley had told himself, was just that it was an age-old instinct to avoid making it obvious that he and Aziraphale were friends. If Gabriel came through the door, Crowley could easily hide. The problem with that was, if Gabriel made one false move toward Aziraphale it was very likely that he’d be met by a giant serpent who definitely was not attempting to be inconspicuous.

The truth was that Crowley still just wasn’t sure _how_ Aziraphale loved him. He knew that Aziraphale did love him. Aziraphale had said so, and looking back, he’d certainly acted like he had for millennia. But Crowley was a demon. Could an angel really love a demon? Could he love someone who didn’t even have a human face?

One night Aziraphale was sitting on the couch by the fire, reading a book with those ridiculous little glasses on his face, and he was simply the most adorable, impossible, beautiful thing Crowley had ever seen. So Crowley, in snake form, slithered down off of a chair and crawled into Aziraphale’s lap.

Aziraphale gave him an absent-minded caress, still reading. Crowley lifted his head up over the top of Aziraphale’s book, getting in the way. They sat there a moment, human and snake, angel and demon. Aziraphale didn’t recoil or pull back. He never had. He just smiled a little, looking patient. Crowley kissed him.

It was a wonderful thing to be a demonic snake who was trusted and loved in all of his forms. But, Crowley discovered, after having given Aziraphale a small snakey kiss, that it really was much nicer to kiss an angel if you had hands to hold him with.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are so appreciated! And please feel free to check out my other works.  
> I am now taking fic requests for your original characters!  
> Find me on tumblr [HolyCatsAndRabbits](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/holycatsandrabbits)  
> Twitter [@DannyeChase](https://twitter.com/DannyeChase)  
> Facebook [Dannye Chase](https://facebook.com/DannyeChase)  
> and Instagram [dannye_chase](https://www.instagram.com/dannye_chase/)
> 
> And don't forget to check out @Hayamiyuu on [Tumblr](https://hayamiyuu.tumblr.com/) [Twitter](https://twitter.com/hayamiyuuchan) and [Insta](https://www.instagram.com/hayamiyuu/)  
> 


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